


Broken Journal of a Broken Man

by emis1967shinyblackbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, mainly a brother bonding thing with destiel on the side
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emis1967shinyblackbae/pseuds/emis1967shinyblackbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: One night, while Dean is not in the room, Sam stumbles across a thick leather bound journal in the bunker. At first, he thought it was just another one from the old Men of Letters that Dean had pulled out to thumb through. However, upon further inspection, Sam finds that it is in fact his brother’s journal, and the dates go back as far as their childhood years. </p>
<p>I’m typically not much of a writer, but I nicked this from a bookstore I was at with Sammy because it reminded me of Dad’s, so I thought I would keep one too. Maybe I’ll give it to Sammy one day, when he’s grown up or something, if he ever stops being like 4 foot nothing. So here goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I am so sorry for not updating the others. I swear I will do that VERY VERY soon. But I was watching some of the older episodes of the show and I really want some solid brother bonding that they need to patch their relationship once and for all, so Sam can understand Dean and how he feels.   
> I WILL UPDATE THIS I SWEAR! JUST LET ME GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM FIRST!

   The bunker was just as quiet as ever as Sam roamed about its halls. He had read many of the books in the library and couldn’t really find a case to handle online, so his boredom caused him to take a little stroll around his new “home”, as Dean so lovingly liked to call it. He was trying to think of something to do, other than stress or work.

   Stepping into the main room, he found Dean curled up in a chair, knocked out with his feet up on a table and a bottle by his side. The glistening golden liquid was only filling up half the bottle and Sam sighed at the sight. He hated to see his brother drink so heavily, knowing what it was doing to him and understanding that it was a coping mechanism for some kind of inner turmoil. He just wished his brother would tell him what was wrong so he could talk it out rather than drowning his sorrows in booze.

   Sam approached his brother and gently tapped his shoulder to rouse him, and Dean groaned as he was awakened.

   “What happened? Sammy?” Dean mumbled out, looking around until his line of sight fell on his brother.

   “Nothing Dean, I just thought that you would want to, you know, go sleep in your room instead of giving yourself more aches and pains by sleeping crooked in this chair.” The younger Winchester replied.  

   Sitting up in said chair, Dean shook his head. “Naw, I need to be awake anyway. Naps screw with my sleeping pattern. You know, I’m hungry. What say you and I go out for a bite and maybe a movie, get out of the house for a bit?”

   Sam smiled at his brother’s offer, glad to know that they still were close enough to have the same thought process. “To be honest, I was hoping you’d say that.”

   “Alrighty then. Well, I have to go grab my jacket, boots, and my keys. I’ll be back in a second.” With that, Dean rose and headed off to his room.

   Sam watched his brother go, glad to see that he wasn’t exactly drunk, just buzzing well and in a good mood. He turned back to face the chair Dean had left out and stood to push it in.

   As he looked down to make sure that he had the chair lined up in the spot correctly, he noticed something unusual on the floor.

   Sam squatted and picked up what seemed to be a leather bound journal, thick with many pages of writing. “Dean must have been reading this before he fell asleep.” He thought, and flipped open to the first page to examine it.

    _May 10th, 1991_

_I’m typically not much of a writer, but I nicked this from a bookstore I was at with Sammy because it reminded me of Dad’s, so I thought I would keep one too. Maybe I’ll give it to Sammy one day, when he’s grown up or something, if he ever stops being like 4 foot nothing. So here goes._

_Dad has been gone a day or two now, out on another hunt. General salt and burn for a ghost, he said. He shouldn’t be gone much longer. Sam misses him. I can tell. He may not like how dad makes us live, but he still loves him. He told me the other day that he wishes he could stay in one school for more than a week and a half. I wish the same thing. My grades haven’t been the same as they were before. I used to be as good as Sammy, can you believe it? I read a lot and would rock at math, but with the constant moving we do, even more so now than before, I just feel like there isn’t much point in trying. No one will notice. Not the teacher I have for like a day or two and certainly not dad. Hell, if he caught me doing school work instead of watching Sammy, I would be as a dead as a door nail. Sammy doesn’t know I was good at school, he was too little to remember. I am glad he doesn’t. He looks up to me too much, and if he knew that I dropped school, he might drop it too, and I can’t let him do that. He’s better than that. He deserves better than what I had. I will make sure he has it better. He’s so smart. I wish Mom could see him. She’d be so proud, more proud than Dad ever will be. Well, I guess I’ll end it here for now._

_-Dean_

   Sam shut the journal in his hands and gripped it so tight, his knuckles turned white. His voice would not come to him, so all he did was stand there and breathe, letting the words roll over and over in his head.

   Dean had kept a journal. Dean had kept a journal from when they were kids. And Sam never knew about it.

   Suddenly, Sam heard the sound of boots coming up the hallway and panicked. He knew he should give it back to Dean and fake like he never read a word in it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He just couldn’t.

   He quickly moved over to the filing cabinet near him and laid it in the top drawer, shut it, and went back to his spot near the table.

   Dean rounded the corner, twirling the keys in his hand. “Come on, man. Let’s hit the road. Check what movies are showing on the way to the restaurant, will ya? I want something good, action or sci-fi preferably.”

   Sam nodded and followed his brother out of the bunker, mind still stuck on the new discovery he had just made.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam begins to read more of Dean's journal and venturing deep into their shared past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love this freaking idea. I am so sorry if it is crazy sad. I just wanted it to be majorly emotional and important.  
> And don't try and get on me about how Dean writes at 12. He's smart as shit, and he read, just not in view of anyone, so I know he could write well. I can feel it. He's not illiterate.

   The old bed creaked under Sam’s weight as he sat down and propped himself up against the headboard, Dean’s journal in hand. That little piece of conscience he had managed to keep up was begging him not to do this, but enough of him wanted to finally understand his brother that he ignored its cries.

   Sam ran his fingers along the brown leather cover, noticing how the shade of brown was darker than that of their father’s journal, but the desire to mimic the man’s was clearly there.

   “If Dean ever finds out, he’ll kill me.” He whispered to the room, almost as if asking it to keep the secret as well.

   Moving past the first page, Sam took a deep breath and began to delve into the past.

_May 13 th, 1991_

_I realize now that I won’t be writing in this very much. I did not really think this through. Oh well, maybe that means it will last longer for me so I won’t have to like get another one. Anyway, so Sam has already plowed through the book I got him when I got this journal. It was his late birthday present. I’d been saving some of the food money for weeks to buy something for him. I mean, of course, Sammy always ate, but I went without for a while, but it was worth it to see that kid’s smile. Made me forget ever being hungry. Dad came back. He said we can stay the max of a week here before we go off again. Sammy is excited. I am too. He really likes this town. They have a great park not too far from here that I took him too while Dad was gone. I wanted him to get some running done. He had a good time. I wish we didn’t have to leave so soon. Sammy would’ve enjoyed another couple of weeks here._

_-Dean_

   Sam thought hard, back to the summer of ’91, trying to remember the little town. He had tried to wipe out a lot of the moving around, so as not to get too sad about all his missed opportunities back then. Vaguely, the memory of Dean ruffling his hair as they looked through the bookstore came to mind along with one of him swinging from some monkey bars at a small park while Dean sat on the orange plastic hood of the slide, getting a bird’s eye view of the playground so he could watch him.

   He laid the book down on the mattress upside down and moved his pillow over it, just in case. He was going to need some liquor in his system to cope with this.

   The younger Winchester stood, his socks saving his feet from the freezing cold of the bunker’s stone floors. A pit was opening up in his stomach, thinking about what else this journal could hold. Dean opening up to anything was a feet in it of itself, so Sam knew he was in for it if he continued. And if he was going to take this emotional beating, he would be thoroughly relaxed for it.

   As if he sensed his brother pondering about him, Dean was raising his hand to knock on Sam’s door when Sam opened it.

   “OH! Hey Dean, uh…. what are you doing?” Sam recovered, hoping his brother wouldn’t see through his small panic.

   “Uh… well I was just going to let you know that I am hitting the sack, in case you needed anything?” Dean replied with a yawn.

   “Oh okay. Well, I’m good. I was just on my way to get a beer. Want to sleep a little smoothly tonight.” Sam motioned his hands toward the kitchen and Dean nodded to his brother.

   “Alright, well, night Sammy.”

   “Night Dean.”

   Once Sam heard the door shut down the hall, Sam shut his own door and headed down to the kitchen, in search of something harder than beer.

   After finding a nice bottle of whiskey and a glass, he went back to his room and set himself up for a long night. He was going to get as much reading as he could.

   Two shots later and a few more pillows properly placed, Sam entered back into the writing of his brother.

   _May 24 th, 1991_

_It’s been a few days on the road since the last case. We’re heading to Uncle Bobby’s now. He is going to watch us for a while. Dad won’t really tell me what he is going to do, but I overheard him tell Bobby that he’s “on to something” and “found a huge lead”. He doesn’t think I know what he means, but I do. I know exactly what he means._

_The demon that killed mom. He found something about it again. And he’s off to chase it again. I think sometimes he forgets that I know, that he told me._

_I won’t be telling Sammy. He doesn’t need to know about that. He doesn’t need to worry about that right now. Luckily, he likes the school that is near Bobby’s, and maybe some of his little friends from there will remember him and talk to him again. I am looking forward to it myself. The last time I was there Bobby said he would teach me how to really ride a bike. I am glad. I’ve always wanted to learn. Dad never has the time to teach me. Heck, he practically laughed in my face when I asked him to do it before. But I don’t know what I was expecting really. I should have more time to write since I figure we’ll be at Bobby’s for a while now._

_-Dean_

   Sorrow filled Sam’s heart and he decided to chase it away the best he could with another shot. The amber liquid warmed him as it slipped down his throat. The alcohol sent a wave of relaxation through his body and he shook his head.

   “This is just going to get harder and harder.”

   _May 26 th, 1991_

_Well, as silly as it may sound, I managed to ride a bike. Bobby told me how to do everything and I just went off and did it. Guess it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. I fell like 10 times, skinned my knees a bit, but it is okay. I did it, and that’s the best part. Bobby said he was proud of me. It was nice to hear. I don’t get that very often. Sammy was all kinds of jealous when he watched me ride around the old cars Bobby had about. Bobby only has one bike though. I promised Sammy I would teach him tomorrow. He stopped complaining after that. You know, I think I like writing in this thing. It’s like talking to someone, but then not having to worry about if they will listen or not. It always listens. It always cares._

_-Dean_

Sam noticed something wrong with the other side of the page, where the next entry was written. It was crinkled and weak, like it had been wet at some point and dried. The ink on the page was smeared in some places too. He continued reading, hoping that the entry would explain the condition of the page.

   _May 27 th 1991_

_Sammy got hurt today. Hurt pretty bad. The bike ended up being a bit too big for him and when I tried to teach him, he got hurt. Everything was okay too. We were having fun. It was great. He was going on his own after a bit, but he fell, just like I did. Only the bike crushed his foot. And when he tried to move it, he twisted his ankle. Bobby took him inside and patched him right up, but Sammy has a limp now._

_I’m scared. I’m really scared._

_Dad will KNOW it was my fault. Dad will say, “Well why did you have to want to learn the damn bike so bad? Look what happened to your brother! This is why I didn’t want to teach you!” He’ll yell for ages….. And then he’ll get me. He’ll get me for failing at my job. And as he gets me, he’ll repeat it._

_“IT’S YOUR JOB TO TAKE CARE OF SAM!”_

_I’m dead scared. But not as dead as I will be when Dad finds out. I hope he never comes back now. I don’t want to have to wear pants and long sleeves in summer. Sammy will ask questions… and he can’t know what Dad does. Because he’ll try to defend me. And if he defends me then Dad will get angry… and if Dad gets angry… I’ll have to get in the way because it’s my job._

_-Dean_

The cold air in the room stung against his face as Sam looked away from the book. He knew exactly what was wrong with the paper now. He would know. He’s cried over paper before too. He knows what it does to it.

   He felt like his throat was closing and he coughed to try and breath properly again. It was all just piling on, everything that Dean had to go through. Sam had known about some of the beatings his dad dished out to Dean sometimes, but he didn’t know they were as frequent as young Dean wrote. Guilt bubbled up inside him as he realized that any time he did anything that their dad didn’t approve of, Dean was immediately to blame. John had a twisted mind, and if he could punish someone for a wrong doing, it always ended up being Dean who got the short end of the stick.

   Even though Sam had been determined to keep reading, after that last entry, he was debating reading anymore ever. It was going to be so hard. Dean had been through so much, and apparently, he didn’t know the half of it.

   He shut the leather book and opened up his bedside table drawer and slipped it inside. He took one last shot before deciding he was going to try and get some sleep in. Although, he was unsure as to how he was supposed to sleep after reading that.

   That night, his dreams were filled with images of his brother, begging his father to let him explain before a fist kissed his cheek. He dreamed of himself, not being able to help Dean as he collapsed on the floor and John spit the worst words in his vocabulary at Dean. He dreamed of Dean curled up on the couch after John left to a bar, trying so hard to cry quietly as to not scare his younger self any more than he may have already been. Because even when he was in all manners of pain, he was still going to take care of his brother.

  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is sent out to find a case and Sam decides to read more into his brother's past mind while he is out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, an explanation.  
> I AM TERRIBLY SORRY HOW LATE THIS IS! I KNOW I LEFT A LOT OF YOU UPSET AND WONDERING IF I WAS EVEN ALIVE OR IF THE STORY WAS GOING TO BE KEPT GOING AND FOR THAT I AM SO SORRY!  
> My senior year has been in full gear and I've been stressed and crazed and losing my mind over it. I am even behind in watching the boys on the CW. I'm like two or three weeks behind. I am so sorry for how late this update is. I will start writing the next chapter immediately and make myself get it done before the next week begins. Please forgive me. I am not on Hiatus or anything. My life just kind of caught up and smacked me hard. With college coming up and everything needing to be settled, I completely forgot to mess with these. I will continue all of my story pronto and be sure to update at least two times a month from now on.  
> Please please please forgive me. I will make this right. Hopefully you like this new chapter and how things go. Stuff is going to get much better from here on out. I swear it. I will MAKE TIME FOR THIS!  
> Now without ANY further delay, here is the new chapter. Enjoy, those of you who still care and stuck it out for the long haul. Thank you. And for those of you that didn't and thought this thing was a dud, you are completely justified and I am not the least bit mad at you.

   Sam awoke the next morning, exhausted and with a pretty bad headache. He stole a glance to his bedside table drawer again, imagining hearing the tiny voices of the pages of the journal inside. He gathered up a new set of clothes and headed to the bathroom. The nightmares he had last night danced around in his head and he tried his best to push them out for now.

   After a while, Sam emerged from the bathroom, fresh outfit and slick wet hair slightly dripping down his shirt. He was greeted with the smell of sausage and eggs from the kitchen, Dean clearly awake and making breakfast. A smile played at his lips knowing his brother was so comfortable here. It was nice that he had the stability the bunker provided and he only wished he had it sooner.

   Dean had his back turned to Sam when he entered the room, flipping some accompanying pancakes for their morning meal.

   “Morning Dean. You’re up early today? Sleep well?”

   “Morning Sammy. I just wanted to make breakfast. I had a decent enough sleep. You?” Sam took a minute to think, trying to come up with a response that didn’t include telling his brother of his dreams of their shitty childhood.

   “It was fine. It was a solid sleep, I can tell you that.” He replied and Dean nodded, preparing the plates.

   “Would you mind if I looked for a case today? I have been getting kind of antsy and I need to do something with these hands.” Dean called over his shoulder to his brother.

   “No no. I wouldn’t mind. I suppose you want me to go with you then?”

   “Yes, I do. We haven’t done a good old fashioned case in a minute and it would be nice to go out there and do what we do best, you know?” The plate full of food was slid across the table as Dean sat down with his.

   “Alright. I’ll look for something too. First one to find a legitimate case doesn’t have to buy the first round of beers when we get into town.” Sam smiled a little, trying to pick up his own mood by making Dean’s better.

   His older brother smirked at him and nodded his fork full of eggs at him, “You’re on, Sammy!”

   Dean bolted out of the apartment with his keys to go and scope out the newspapers and the news at some of the local restaurants to try and find rumors to follow. Sam had decided to hunker down in the bunker’s library with his laptop.

   He rubbed his palm across his face, trying to fully wake himself up after his uncomfortable sleep, the journal still plaguing his mind. As much as he wanted to appease his brother’s game of “Find the Hunt”, he really wanted to read more of the journal.

   After weighing it in his head after a bit, Sam rose from his seat and headed back to his room. The journal had remained in his bedside table drawer and when he picked it up, the leather felt cool to the touch, almost as if it knew the tone of its own contents.

   As Sam took it back to the library room, he could’ve sworn that the whole bunker got quieter, as if the walls knew he was doing something he shouldn’t. The cold stone building eyed him, promising to tell Dean if Sam continued reading the journal.

   Opening it up to where he left off, Sam swallowed hard, anxiety from what was to come creeping up on him.

_May 30th, 1991_

_Dad came back today. He was angry. Very angry. He had lost the lead he had on the demon that killed mom. It didn’t make it better that Sammy still had a bit of a limp when he showed up._

_Dad was about to rip me a new one when Bobby stepped in. He begged him not to hurt me, that he should’ve really been watching out for Sam better and that it was not my fault. I swear it looked like Dad was going to hit Uncle Bobby too, but he backed off. The rest of the day, he fawned over Sammy like he was dying. He made sure he was comfortable and that he had the right medication for the pain and everything._

_I don’t know what else I can do. I really don’t. I try so hard to do everything he tells me to. He never notices. He never does. He is so worried about Sammy. He doesn’t have to worry about Sammy. I take care of Sammy. He is taken care of, I’m not._

_I bet Dad couldn’t even pick out Sammy’s favorite color. I can. It changes every year, but I can. It’s blue this year. A dark blue. And Sammy kind of wants to be a firefighter because he knows that a fire killed mom, or rather he thinks that a fire killed mom. He thinks that we’re eventually going to settle down and he’s excited for that. I bet you he doesn’t know that Sammy likes baseball way more than football._

_I bet he doesn’t know that he’s what keeps me from running away. It’s not him, it’s not out of loyalty. It’s because of Sammy. Because Sammy will miss me. Sammy will need me. Sammy will care if I’m gone. So I stay. For him._

_-Dean_

   Sam blinked and felt a single tear slip out of his eye and he realized that he was beginning to cry. He rubbed his eyes slightly and shook his head. He really shouldn’t read anymore. He knew he shouldn’t, but the more he read, the more he felt he understood his brother.

   He set the book down for a moment and got up really quick and jogged up to the front of the bunker and looked up the spiral metal staircase at the main door, making sure that Dean was absolutely not on his way in. It was shut and quiet and he nodded to himself and went and sat back down.

   The next entry was a lot later than the last, by about one whole year in fact. Sam could only assume that Dean had accidentally misplaced the journal back then and he found it again.

  _March 10th, 1992_

_I cannot believe I found this thing! I thought I lost it for sure. Bobby kept you safe for me while we were away. He packed it away on the shelf and swore he didn’t read it. I believe him. He’s a good man, a man of his word._

_So a lot has happened since the last time I had this thing. I turned thirteen a few months ago. It wasn’t anything special really. It was just another day, Dad had said when he called on the phone to check on Sammy. He had been gone a week up to that point and still didn’t look like he was coming back any time soon. He’s gone again now. Won’t be back for like two more days._

_Sammy had been ecstatic about it though. Crazy kid. You know, he even gave me a present, wrapped and everything. He had stolen a bag of powdered donuts and a comic book from a store we had wandered into back then. I had no idea at the time. He managed to hide it from me for a while. He’s learning well. I can’t tell if I’m proud or sad about that. I told Sammy that tonight we would sneak into a movie. He was hesitant and excited. He has his choice between Wayne’s World and Gladiator. I think he’ll pick Gladiator though. Dork._

_Well, it’s getting late. I’ve got to go pretend we’re lost in the movie theater to get in. I’ll try not to lose this thing again._

_-Dean_

   Sam smiled at the mentioning of the movie theater. He remembered that day. Dean had even managed to snag them some popcorn too. They did end up seeing Gladiator. Sam had loved it and Dean had ended up having no real complaints. It was little things like that, hanging out together and being kids, that was something Sam had wished that they had been able to have more of.

   The younger Winchester sighed and gazed about the bunker. It was still weird for him to accept this place as his own permanent place of residency. Dean and he had been floaters for years, and even though Sam had yearned to be stable all his life, it was still so surreal for him to finally have it.

   He leaned back in his chair a little and observed the leather bound book, amazed at how something so conspicuous could have possibly never been seen by him all his childhood. He had no recollection of Dean keeping this thing, but here it was, plain as day, Dean’s old but still familiar handwriting filling the pages.

   “13 years old… we were just kids.” Sam mumbled to himself.

   Breaking himself of his thoughts, he pressed on in his readings, hoping to get some more done before Dean returned.

    _April 2nd, 1992_

_Sorry for not writing in this for a while again, even though I promised. I didn’t mean to. My dad took me on a hunt, me and him out there together. It was insane. He left Sammy with Bobby and we went after this vampire. But then it turned out there was a whole GROUP of vampires! Dad called it a nest. It was crazy. We had one other person helping us, a local man who knew the area and knew about the “Family Business” we were in. His name was Randal or something._

_I got to cut like two whole heads off. It was a little scary at first, not gonna lie, but it was still cool. I saw so much blood. I think It’s the most blood I’ve ever seen come out of someone else. I have seen it come out of me before but not from other people, not like that. But then again, a vampire must not count as people._

_Still, it was cool. Way cool. Sammy was a whiny baby about the whole situation. He couldn’t understand why I got to go and he couldn’t. He felt all left out. I am glad he didn’t go though. He does not have the constitution for that kind of thing yet. I would much rather he didn’t anyway. He knows we do this stuff and that we hunt, but he has never really been in the middle of a hunt where it’s life and death, and I would like to keep it that way for a little longer. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t need to be in the middle of that right now._

_I know Dad will try to drag him into it sooner or later. The Winchester Clan taking on the whole fucking world… it seems like it’ll never end. I wish it would. I don’t picture this life for Sammy and I._

_Alright, I think it’s time to go. I’ll come back to this thing later._

_-Dean_

   Sam couldn’t understand it. He had always thought Dean had been obedient and just as determined as his father to be a hunter. He always kept up Dad’s mantras and ideas in front of him, so he figured he must’ve been all for his father’s methods. Sam assumed he had been the only family member that was not about the life, that was completely against “the family business.” Apparently, he had been rather mistaken.

   He was about to read more when he felt his pocket start vibrating. Sam shut the journal and whipped out his cell phone and answered it, “Yeah?”

“Hey man, I think I may have found something.” His brother stated and Sam frowned a little at the fact that his reading would be interrupted further.

   “In the town? That would be a new one.” He replied to Dean.

   “Naw, not here. The town was dead as usual so I did some internet surfing on my phone because sometimes you can get a little side tracked when looking for cases, so I took matters into my own hands. There’s a case in Mississippi, seems like a nasty haunting.”

   “Alright then. I’ll gather some of my little things. Want me to grab your bag too?”

   “Already done. I put it in the trunk this morning. Had a feeling something was going to crop up.”

   “Okay then. How far are you?”

   “Just starting to head back. Why?”

   Sam glanced at the journal perched on the table and furrowed his brow. “Uh.. no reason. Just wondering. I don’t really want to keep you waiting. Mississippi isn’t exactly close.”

   “Right. Alright. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

   Sam hung up and scooped the journal and the laptop into his arms and headed into his room. He placed it on his bed as he pulled his bag up and began to fill it with the essentials.

   Everything was just about packed and Sam was about to zip up the bag and leave when he remembered the journal. His morals told him to leave it behind or better yet, to put it back in Dean’s room where he had found it, but his brotherly instincts begged him to take it with him. There was so much more in this little journal just waiting to be read.

   He was about to leave it on his bed when he heard the large main door open and Dean’s voice echoed throughout the bunker.

   “Sammy, let’s head out!”

   At the sounding of his brother, Sam quickly changed his mind and shoved the little journal into his bag, making sure to bury it under some clothes so it wasn’t easily noticeable when you opened the duffle itself.

   “I’m on my way Dean!” He called back to his brother and slung the duffle and his laptop bag over his shoulder and shut his bedroom door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While out on a case, Sam boldly decides to press on in his readings of his brother's journal. How long before Dean actually realizes it's gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Am. So. Sorry.   
> This is super late. I hate myself. I procrastinate like it's my job.   
> But it's not. I do have a job now though. Sorry about everything. Here you go.

The drive was not too bad on the way to the case. It’s nothing the brothers hadn’t done a thousand times over. Their line of work really required it. Off and on, the two switched positions, one driving and one sleeping or doing research depending on some things.

   When Sam would take his designated turn behind the wheel, he would ponder the journal. Thinking of everything that could possibly be in it at this point was so nerve racking. How many times had his brother poured his soul out to this little leather bound listener in order to vent? What horrible moments of Dean’s life were etched into those pages?

   Once they rolled up into the town of the case in Mississippi, Dean and Sam made their way into the room of a small motel and set up shop. It was only about noon so they had plenty of time to do what they needed to do for the case rather than having to wait till tomorrow.

   “Alright Sammy. Get all M.I.B. now. I’m starving and I want to get a bite to eat after we interview the victims of all this.” Dean called to his brother as he took his suit and bathroom items and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

   “You got it, Dean.” Sam replied, moving over to his bag to pull out his “government shoes and socks”. He grabbed them from in the bag but sighed as he felt his hand brush against the familiar leather book.

   Sam was itching to put everything down and read more, but there was no way he would be able to right now. He knew he had to get a long period of time to himself before he could even bring it out, let alone read it. Unfortunately, unless his brother wanted to get drunk at a bar somewhere, he wasn’t going to get that time. And as much as he knew he could convince Dean to go drinking and leave him there, he really wasn’t keen on the idea of his brother’s liver taking another beating for his own personal gain.

   The younger Winchester left the book in his duffel and got himself dressed and waited patiently for his brother to finish in the bathroom.

   The boys went out and did what they did best, getting all the information they needed from the victim’s family. It had been a pretty gruesome death and as usual, the family resisted their prying, but they spilled about everything that they would need to help them with things. Apparently, the house had just been renovated from its original design from the early 1900s so it is very possible that stirred things up.

   With that case issue out of the way, Sam suggested they go italian and Dean didn’t particularly mind today so they pulled into an Olive Garden. Sam had stashed his laptop in the back seat and took it out with him and researched while the waitress was placing their orders.

   “Sammy, I’m gonna grab a beer from the bar, you want anything?” Dean asked, as he stood up from their booth.

   Even though Sam had been going through pages and pages of the archives of the town they were in, he really hadn’t been paying attention to the majority of it. He was thinking of his brother and what he had read out of the journal. It stayed on his mind often, especially when they were together like this. He heard his brother ask if he wanted anything for the bar and was about to say “no” when his thoughts on the contents of the journal stopped him.

   “Sure Dean. I’ll have what you’re having.” He replied and Dean smiled rather big and nodded to him before taking off.

   That smile made Sam feel good, feel accomplished. It was like he was trying to make for everything that was coming up about their past with little moments like that.

   The Winchesters drank and ate and enjoyed the company of one another and Sam did end up finding out what the possible cause of the haunting might be. Apparently, a woman was murdered by her husband in that house and had always been very jealous of other women. So she was taking it out on any resident that was female and in a happy relationship in the house. This recent attack had not been the only haunting related death by this ghost either. The boys would have to act very soon.

   They went back to the motel to change into their street clothes and Sam decided that he would bring the book along in his laptop case, hoping to get some reading in if Dean decided to take a nap while they were on the stake out. He knew it was risky, but he couldn’t bare not reading anymore.

   They got to the street the house had been on and posted up for the rest of the day, ready to strike. After a few hours though, Sam’s intuitions were correct and his brother curled up in his chair and fell asleep. Sam picked up his laptop case from the floor by his seat and unzipped it and removed the journal.

   He picked up right where he left off in their past.

_April 11th, 1992_

_Sammy and I had to do one of those standardized test things at school today. It was really lame. I tried a little bit, but really that was all I needed to try. It was super easy._

_He came home excited about it, exploding to me about how well he thinks he did. I have no doubt that he did great. He’s so smart._

_He reminds me of mom a lot. Mom was smart. He reads like she did. Mom constantly had a book in her hand. She could read for hours and hours, huge books that she used to get from the library. Mostly though, she read to me. She read to me every week, a new book each week, hundreds of different stories. And man was she a story teller._

_I miss her._

_I think I miss her even more than dad._

_He says he does all that he does for her… but I don’t think that’s the case anymore._

_Does he neglect us for her? Did she want that?_

_Does he beat me for her? Would she want to see me hurting?_

_Does he get drunk and rant and rave and get scary because she was the one who asked him to?_

_Is this what she wanted?_

_I don’t think so._

_-Dean_

   Sam’s chest once again felt tight from the emotion that spewed from the pages. He always had a hard time discussing his mother, at least with dear sentiment like Dean did.  He was never really sad about her memory as much as he was about the fact that he would never have any memories of her.

   The familiar yet still distant pang he felt in his heart when he thought of her only further reminded him of how doomed their lives seemed to be from the start. Even in infancy, he was destined to go through trial after trial, desperately trying to stay in one piece, in more ways than one.

   Sam went to the next page, but it just had a bunch of small doodles on it. Little monsters and numbers and things just scribbled about. Dean must have gotten really bored at some point.

   The next entry wasn’t until September of 1992. Sam was disappointed in all the holes of time, but he could do nothing about it really. It’s just how the little journal was written.

   _September 5, 1992_

_We’re back at Bobby’s and we finally get to rest. We have been everywhere and nowhere and all over the place since I last wrote in this thing. I was so busy taking care of Sammy and doubling on cases with my dad that I totally forgot about this thing. I hate when I forget to write in it. It’s like forgetting to throw up when you have a stomach bug. Everything builds up before it blows out._

_My dad was hunting demons for a while, strictly demons, and we kept getting left behind. I am not old enough to take on demons yet. Dad says it’s way too risky. I don’t want to go on those hunts anyway. Demons seem like way too much. I am not ready for that. Sammy needs me anyway._

_Sammy and I have been doing a lot. Bobby is so happy to us that he’s doing a lot with us. He took us to the movies, we saw a football game, and he helped me with my aiming. I have gotten a lot better._

_Bobby is also helping Sammy with his schooling. We’ve been out for a while, but Bobby decided to enroll us again, right here in Sioux Falls. Bobby is way smart. I wonder why he’s a hunter for. He could do so much._

_Sammy is talking about his future. He wants to go to college and do stuff. I want him to go too… kind of. I mean, I don’t know what else I would do. Taking care of him is all I know how to do now. I want him to succeed… to be beyond this… but I don’t want to lose my brother._

_So I guess I’ll have to let him go when the time comes. I’m pretty sure it’ll be easier said than done. Oh well._

_-Dean_

   Sam sat in the Impala and glanced over to his brother next to him. In all actuality, despite having Bobby and Jess and any of the others throughout his life, when it came down to it, it ended up being him and his brother. They were all they had left, and it wasn’t apparent to him back when he was a kid that Dean would be as dedicated to being his brother as it is now.

   Right then and there, Sam wanted to let Dean have the journal back. He wanted to give it back and try and forget everything he had read and just feel like he had ultimately respected Dean’s privacy. Although lying was not a game that he was a stranger to playing, it still made him so uncomfortable when it came to things so personal and concerning the both of them. With his conscience baring down on him, he decided that he would read the last entry for right now next and then wake his brother up so they could more attention to the house.

   However, before he could, his brother began to stir next to him. Sam felt panic rise in his chest and he did the only thing he could do, he threw the journal as quickly as he could into the laptop bag without showing that he was doing it. Thankfully, it took Dean a second to become fully cognitive and remember where he was so he didn’t notice Sam covering his ass at the last second.

   “Okay, I can’t actually get any real sleep in. This is pointless.” They continued their stake out from there and ended up saving the woman that lived there, as was the usual for them. Within a day, they were out of the small town and headed back for home. Dean still didn’t suspect Sam of knowing anything about the journal and Sam didn’t want to risk reading on the road again and having Dean find out. He knew it would only drive more wedges between them if Dean ever found out.

   When the familiar town of Lebanon began to overtake their surroundings, the boys both felt some kind of air of safety wash over them. It was like going to Bobby’s house when the old man was still on this Earth. It was just a place that the ever moving Winchesters could just settle. Sam sighed as they neared the bunker, feeling the weight of his secret on his heart and his head even more as his brother smiled at him and mentioned something about getting a fresh shower and then making a sandwich the size of the Empire State Building to relax.

   As Dean went ahead of Sam inside, the younger Winchester hung back and shifted the laptop bag over his shoulder and eyed the little leather book in his bag and shook his head before walking in too.


End file.
